


Today Your Barista Is Hella Fucking Gay

by maria_j_harper



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maria_j_harper/pseuds/maria_j_harper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat lets Dave write something on the barista board for the coffee shop they both work at. He lives to regret it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Today Your Barista Is Hella Fucking Gay

"What the fuck is the big idea Strider? What the literal fuck!" You are carrying the offending barista board for Dave to see.  
"Oh come on Karkat, you have to admit, that was pretty damn hilarious."  
"Do I? Will the world spontaneously combust if I don't? Because I find it impossible to be even mildly amused by it! At least this finally explains that one old christian lady giving me weird looks, not to mention the brochure she slipped under my tip jar."  
"Wait, seriously? Can I see?"  
"No! In fact, the only thing preventing me from quitting is that this is the last place that would take someone with so little experience and hasn't already fired me for being rude to customers."  
"You've been all broken up about still being single, I thought this would be a good confidence boost for you!"  
"Sure, if I don't die of humiliation first!"  
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and how you wound up falling in love with this jerkass you'll never know.

**Hours in the past, but not many.**

"Karkat, it's your turn to serve the beverages today. Go write your name on the barista board." Jane, your boss, is an authoritative business woman, but you still cross your arms like a petulant child.  
"No, I refuse to be referred to as a 'barista,' that's a stupid title. I'm serving them fucking coffee, not creme brulee or whatever the fuck fancy things rich people eat."  
"Karkat..." Jane's voice takes on a stern tone.  
"Relax, I'll do it," Dave says. Of course, leave it to him to take any chance he can get to kiss up to your "hot MILF of a boss." His words, not yours.  
Stupid Dave and his persistent heterosexual tendencies.  
He steps outside and you watch as he erases what was on the board before (his name, and the statement that he recommends the daily special for the customers' drinks today) and writes something else. Does it usually take this long for someone to write a name? Whatever, he's probably putting it in "ironic" bubble letters or something shitty like that.  
Why the fuck do you have to find that so endearing?  
He comes back in, and as if by coolkid magic, the sign flips from "Closed" to "Open." As his name might suggest, he has a confident stride, and he practically struts back into the coffee shop. He slides his way behind the counter and sits with a slouch on the stool against the back wall.  
You glare at him suspiciously. "What did you write?"  
He smirks. "Nothing you wouldn't want me to Kit-Kat."  
You pound on the counter with your fist and start to go look for yourself when a customer walks in, forcing you to stay put.  
"Hi, welcome to Crocker Coffee and Confections, my name is Karkat. How may I serve you today?" You ask mechanically.  
The girl walks up to the counter, inspecting you closely. It makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. "I'll have a double mocha latte please, extra foam," she says. You nod.  
"Coming right up miss."  
Dave makes her drink, and by the time you hand it to her, another customer has walked in. A steady stream of people keeps you trapped behind the counter after that. It starts to drive you really crazy when you can see the people outside laughing at the sign and taking pictures of it before walking in.  
Then things start to get really weird.  
A slender boy with short-ish brown hair hands you a slip of paper shyly. It has a phone number on it. You show it to Dave, who chalks it up to your natural charisma. The next slip of paper you receive is a Pray the Gay Away brochure from a really old lady who looks at you judgingly through her spectacles. What the fuck? Did Dave stick a rainbow to your shirt or something? But no, your usual grey sweater is flamboyancy free. A line starts to form, much earlier than it usually does, and more people are stopping and laughing at the sign.  
Okay, what the fuck is on that sign? "Jane, I've been mobbed. Can you please go make sure Strider didn't write something stupid on the barista board or something?"  
"Of course Karkat." She pardons herself as she pushes past the growing line to look at the sign. You watch as she covers her mouth in attempt to stifle a laugh. She comes back in and you look at her expectantly.  
"Well?"  
"Hoo hoo, I could hardly say Karkat. I would tell you, but it seems to really be drumming up business, and I'm certain that if you knew you would make me erase it, hoo hoo! Dave, as a master of pranks myself, I must commend you on your fine work!"  
"Thank," Dave says, cool as a cucumber.  
You think you feel your blood beginning to boil. "Crocker, I swear to gog if you don't tell me I'll-"  
"Keep up the good work Karkat!" She interrupts you. With that, she disappears into the manager's office behind the counter.  
You would facepalm, but the person whose order you were supposed to take next is looking impatient. Grudgingly, you write down their impossibly complicated order.  
You get four more numbers. Most memorably, one from a boy who clearly plays some sports, who slips it into your tip jar so his jock friends don't see it; and one from an older man who leers at you disconcertingly. You also get the beginnings of a rant, from your cousin Kankri of all people, asking how you dared write such triggering solicitations on a public sign. Dave interrupts him before he can really get going though, thank God. Dave is the only person in the entirety of paradox space with the power to stop one of Kankri's rants. He takes responsibility for the sign, and tells Kankri to stop interfering. Kankri yells at him for a bit, and you tune it out until he goes away.  
Your lunch break finally comes, and business has lulled because almost no one wants coffee at one in the afternoon. You go check the sign. You swear.

**= >Resume your conversation with Dave.**

"I don't know why you're so mad! How many phone numbers did you get?"  
"Five."  
"Five numbers in as many hours, that's not half bad Kit-Kat! You see? You were getting all down on yourself, and I thought you needed someone to prove to you that you're a catch!"  
"So you wrote this?" You gesture to the board. It reads:  
Today your barista is: 1. Hella fucking gay 2. Desperately single. For your drink today I recommend: You give me your number.  
Beside the inscription is a drawing of you. It actually isn't half bad, as far as chalk drawings go. And here you thought Strider's art skill was limited to his shitty "ironic" comics.  
He crosses his arms and smirks. "Yup. Pretty sweet, right?"  
"You think calling me "desperately single" is pretty sweet? Augh, I can't stand you Strider!" Shit. You can feel the corners of your eyes beginning to prickle, and you know you're about to start crying. Gog, why are you such a fucking crybaby? You run to the bathroom before he can see your tears.  
You lock yourself in the first stall and sit down. Your quiet sobs resound off the dirty white tile. The bathroom door opens.  
"Hey. I'm sorry ok? I didn't realize it was such a sensitive subject."  
You dry your eyes on some toilet paper, though tears just come pooling back up. "Leave me alone asswipe."  
"Um, no. How about you come out and tell me exactly why the fuck you're crying instead."  
"Every single one of our customers thinks I'm a pathetic loser now, isn't that reason enough?"  
"Not for you it's not. You wouldn't be this upset about it unless you lost the opinion of someone you actually cared about, not just some strangers from off the street."  
Goddamn it, he knows you too well. You open your stall door and come out to face him. You probably look terrible, but he walks toward you. "I didn't mean to upset you like this man, I'm really sorry."  
You shake your head. "It's stupid anyways. It's just... I'm feeling even more of an unwanted little shit than usual right now."  
He snorts. "Unwanted? You got five different guys' numbers!"  
"Yeah but..." can you say it? Will you say it? "Like you said, they're just strangers from off the street, why the fuck should they matter? The guy who I want is still an oblivious idiot who's too wrapped up in himself to see past his own idiotic- nose." You had been about to say shades.  
"Well jeez, if I knew you had a crush on someone specific that would have never happened! That changes the game entirely! Go on then, who is he?"  
"It doesn't matter, he's not interested."  
"How do you know? Have you asked? He's probably shy. You have to tell me these things dude, I'm your wing man!" He's close, so close you can smell his "ironic" cologne, and he's smiling that infuriatingly cocky Strider Smile (TM).  
"HE'S YOU, DAVE! I KNOW FOR A FACT HE"S NOT FUCKING INTERESTED BECAUSE HE'S YOU, YOU INSENSITIVE PIECE OF CUNTLICKING SHIT!" The secret erupts out of you in a burst of fire and pent-up emotion. Then your eyes widen and your hand goes to your mouth, as though somehow you might be able to put those words back inside. Dave's smirk vanishes, and his eyes are unreadable behind those damn reflective shades.  
"I... I never... I didn't think you saw me that way."  
"Yeah, well, neither did I. Until I did." You cross your arms like a shield across your chest. You refuse to break eye contact with him. You want to stare at the ground until it swallows you whole, but even now you won't be the one to blink first.  
Then something weird happens. He smiles. It isn't the trademark Strider smirk, it's a real, honest smile. He takes another step toward you, so that you're less than a foot apart. "You've really got to tell me these things," he says, as he leans down and presses his lips gently against yours.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired in part by this image:  
> http://38.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbevvfUw0O1qduyeio1_500.jpg


End file.
